glass houses.

there's a crack in the window you're standing behind with a pebble in your hand.

detox.

i was, i was so sure. and the smoke never speculated much. no pollution of mind or heart or eyes looking towards a crisp reflection.

you think you see the world realistically?
you nurture your cynical truths, unknowingly discoloring the world you walk through. or protect yourself under blankets of mistruths, that your eyes are looking but aren't seeing. you touch his body lying on top of you but aren't feeling. you take in oxygen like its a burden but aren't BREATHING. I watch you as you move, your make up is fresh, not a hair out of place, but your words are hollow and numbing. you have no idea. and you are content, even blissful within your plastic doll house. and if you could empty out the contents of anything close to meaning inside you, I doubt you'd hesitate.

god.

how did we get here?
with every generation stepping foot, our thoughts get thinner and our footing grows weaker. our forefathers stood their feet deep within this earth. and their imprints still map our day time stories.

but tonight, I wonder, we might as well disappear into thin air.

slow tedious little insecurities like insects. like a fly caught in the middle of a window pane, and you have no clue how it got there in the first place, or where to begin getting it out. all you hear is the relentless tittering of its wings.
stupid little thing.